


Love Triangles (and Other Shapes)

by DomesticatedTendencies



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Artist Steve Rogers, Awesome Darcy Lewis, Best Friends, Bucky Barnes Flirts, Childhood Friends, Everyone has a Part, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Friend Fiction, Gen, New York City, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Darcy Lewis, Unrequited Crush, so many references, so much fun
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-02
Updated: 2018-10-01
Packaged: 2019-07-23 17:00:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16163108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DomesticatedTendencies/pseuds/DomesticatedTendencies
Summary: Pals. Buddies. That’s what they were. Bucky, Darcy, and Steve had been friends going back since before forever. Growing up they did everything together. They were three halves of one whole. The Three Amigos. They were the kind of best friends that they made crappy sitcoms about.Or where Darcy loves Bucky, Steve loves Darcy, and Bucky is a shameless flirt.





	Love Triangles (and Other Shapes)

**Author's Note:**

> Well hello again! So the absolute last thing I need is another story, but here we are all the same. 
> 
> Credit for the inspiration of this comes from the lovely Mal_Functioning_Writer on Tumblr. You may see some similarities between this and their reader insert The Oath but know that I am writing this with their knowledge and permission. 
> 
> Chapters will alternate POV between our three mains. Almost every character from the MCU will make an appearance of some kind. And most of all, this is purely for fun. If you laugh even once, I've done my job!

Friday night and New York City. Like a frat guy in a beer helmet, Darcy felt like those two things together deserved a big fat “WOOOOOO!” They went together like peanut butter and jelly. Like white on rice. Friday nights in NYC were better than Betty White AND sliced bread.

At least that’s what she was telling herself as she wrestled out of her third Fails-To-Meet-The-Standard-Set-For-Barhopping outfit. This was stupid. Clothes were stupid. Boobs were definitely stupid. Well okay, they weren’t, but still. She tossed the outfit on the floor along with the others, vowing that they would stay there until either they became more flattering or else she got tired of tripping over them. Whichever came first.

Eureka! (That was a thing people said, right?) Finally, she found exactly what she was looking for. The top. The freaking top. Her foolproof, grade A, still looked good even after she’d been hit the double chocolate chunk ice cream a little hard, barhopping approved sweater. Just like that, her inner frat guy was back, WOOOOOO-ing all over the damn place.

She needed this. Needed to get out of her apartment and hit the town. She loved her job, really, but after being cooped up in the lab all week with her sometimes manic and fully science! obsessed boss, she needed to be among normal people.

Outfit, check. Hair, check. Nails only slightly chipped, check. Perfect red pout. (Bonus points for no lipstick on her teeth. Yay!) Purse, pepper spray in case of creeps (since tasers were illegal in New York. Stupid.) Quick check for pesky eye boogers. She was all set AND as the doorbell rang, right on freaking time.

“Lewis!” She was both physically and verbally assaulted the second she opened the door. Smelling like leather and sin, James “My Friends Call Me Bucky” Barnes had her in the tightest bearhug EVER, complete with dangling feet (her) and a lack of oxygen (also her).

Come Friday nights, Mr. All-Business-All-The-Time was the physical embodiment of Darcy’s inner frat guy.

“Bucky, my man,” She choked. “Squeezing a little tight there, buddy.”

Putting her down, he had that stupid smirk on his face - all rakish and inappropriately sexy. If it wasn’t the smirk, it was the smoldering eyes. If not the eyes, there was the freaking strut. Seriously, he needed to trademark that shit. Women just ate it up. And the worst part about it was he freaking knew it.

Biting his lip, he wagged his brows at her. “I brought you a present.”

Great. Cause that didn’t make her suspicious or anything. The last time Bucky had brought her “a present”, said present ran out on the tab but still had the nerve to call the next day.

“What kind of present?”

“Come on doll, you know I’d only bring the best for my number one girl.”

She groaned. “Are you kidding me? Bucky, no. Please, no. I told you, I don’t want to be set up with any more of your buddies from work. Or the gym. Or the dumpster behind the liquor store. Seriously, I don’t know where you find these guys, but no.”

“But what if I promise to pay the tab?”

Her jaw dropped to the floor. Literally. Eyes wide, she probably looked like a freaking fish or something but she didn’t care.

“STEEEEEEEVE!” All caps, one syllable, triple exclamation point. She pounced like some kind of freaking animal, nearly knocking him over as she climbed him like a freaking tree.

Bucky laughed. “Now who’s squeezing a little tight?”

Steve didn’t seem to mind though. With Darcy’s arms around his neck, and her legs wrapped around his waist, Steve Rogers was perfectly happy to hug her right back.

“You’re not supposed to be back for another two weeks!”

“Finished up early. I missed home,” He spoke into her curls.

Finally letting go, Darcy had a million questions quick on the tongue. “How was Japan? Was the food weird? Are you a big famous video game artist yet?” Then incredulously, “Did you somehow get more muscle-y?”

Steve chuckled, his neck turning bright red and he answered each question in turn. “Japan was awesome. Food wasn’t bad. No. And, I don’t think so?” He punctuated this with an arch of his brow.

Darcy poked him in the stomach. “Well you’re definitely lookin’ good there, pal.”

Pals. Buddies. That’s what they were. Bucky, Darcy, and Steve had been friends going back since before forever. Growing up they did everything together. When the boys went to college, Darcy followed right behind them a year later. When Bucky joined the Army, Steve and Darcy drove to Oklahoma for his graduation from basic training. (Roadtrip!) When Steve said he was going to spend a year working in Japan, they binged on anime and sushi for a week and then Darcy blubbered the entire way to the airport. They were three halves of one whole. (That made sense, right? Cause math.) The Three Amigos. They were the kind of best friends that they made crappy sitcoms about. And now with Bucky working in the civilian sector and Steve back from Japan the cheesy laugh track could finally continue. (Yay!)

“Alright, enough fawning over Steve and his stupid muscles,” Bucky said, interrupting the lovefest. “Come on you guys! The nights young, it’s two dollar margarita night at Archer’s, and Darcy’s got on her man catching sweater.”

“Shut up, jerk.” But she was rolling her eyes when she linked arms with him on one side and Steve on the other. “And don’t you dare think for a second that I forgot about that ten bucks you owe me from last week. That’s like seven margaritas, buddy.”

Bucky snorted. “Where the hell did you learn to do math?”

“Hello, there’s a little thing called interest.”

“Interest, ha! Do you hear this, Stevie? This is the kind of crap I’ve had to put up with for a year. A year!”

Steve held the door as he steered Darcy into the stairwell. “Should have read the fine print when you took the loan.”

“I should have left your punk ass at the airport.”

Darcy’s cackle bounced off the concrete walls. She was practically danced down the stairs. Finally! The band was back together and all she could think about was the mother freaking reunion tour.

* * *

  
So as it turned out the reunion tour got them as far as a back booth at Archer’s Bar. It was a hole in the wall kind of place. A total dive to be honest. But Darcy had always dug it’s not quite creepy but definitely old and grungy feel. Plus the owner Clint was pretty awesome. He told the worst dad jokes ever and never quite heard orders right (Sex on a Beach became Texts about Bleach. A Fuzzy Navel, a Furry Marvel.) But he poured a generous shot and made the best damn two dollar margarita on the eastern seaboard so he was aces in Darcy’s book.

Within five minutes of nabbing the table Bucky was off making the rounds. He could be such a whore sometimes. Give him enough time and he’d all the women in the bar fighting for his attention and honestly, some of the men too. It was the pout, Darcy decided. And the perfectly blown out hair he’d grown as some sort of act of rebellion after the military. Half of New York wanted to run their fingers through those stupid luxurious locks and frankly it grossed Darcy out. (Like really, boundaries peoples.) Not to mention his ego was inflated enough already. He needed a scar or something. Some sort of tragic back story that might somehow make him less attractive though knowing Bucky he would just make it work in his favor anyway. (Oh look at me, I’m Bucky Barnes and I’m tragically damaged. Feel free to check out my awesome hair and kickass washboard abs while I hit you with the smolder eyes. Meh.)

“You still with me, Darce?” Steve asked over the lip of his beer bottle, interrupting her inner diatribe about Bucky and his hair.

“Huh – what? Pssh, yeah. Of course.” She sucked down half of her third margarita. (Bucky had settled on six during the negotiations.) “What’s up, buddy?”

Steve was watching her from across the table with those seriously blue eyes of his. (Seriously, were they always that blue?)

“You still haven’t told him, have you?”

Oh look, there went the second half of that third drink. “Told who, what, when now?” Was she actually blushing? It was possible. Damn, Clint made a good margarita. “Hey, isn’t it like tomorrow in Tokyo? Did you come back from the future? Aren’t you tired?”

“I slept on the plane.”

Her lips were all tingly and loose when she smiled. “I really missed you.”

“I missed you too, kid.” Like there was more than 15 months between them in age. God, she had almost forgotten how he could sound just like an exasperated old man sometimes. “Want some water?”

“Nah, I’m gooooood,” She was smiling again. Grinning, really. (Was there a difference? Felt like maybe there was.) “So tell me more about Japan. Is there a girl somewhere in Tokyo writing your name in her notebook?”

Steve laughed, an indignant finger thrust in the air. “One time! I write one girls name in my sketchbook fifteen years ago and you still won’t let me live it down.”

“What was her name, Steve?” She taunted, giggling.

He was absolutely freaking adorable, the way his face got all soft in memory. “Margaret,” He answered just like she knew he would. “Margaret Carter.”

“I wonder whatever happened to her,” Darcy mused, her chin in her hands as she rested both elbows on the cracked formica table.

“She got married last year,” Steve said, adding with a shrug. “Facebook.”

Darcy was nodding in sage agreement when Bucky slid into the booth beside her.   
“What about Facebook?” He wanted to know but then quickly waved it off. “Never mind. Never mind. Darcy, red head five o'clock. I said five o'clock, that’s two o'clock. That’s nine o’clock. You - you’re looking at the wall.”

She really hated this game and started to whine. “Buckyyyyy.”

He draped an arm over her shoulder, pulling her into his side. “Just look over my shoulder, will you?”

So she did, because it wasn’t exactly like she could say no to him. (She tried once. Stupid Bucky puppy dog eyes.)

“Yup, that’s a red head alright,” She confirmed.

“What do you think?”

What she thought was that she was suddenly very sleepy. She chewed on her straw, looking at him from beneath heavy lids. “I think she's a redhead.”

“Clint says he's never seen her before. Drinking a stoli martini, straight up.”

Steve let out a low whistle. “High class.”

“Top shelf, baby.” Bucky was doing that smirky lip biting thing, all suggestive and gross. “What do you think, Darce?”

Darcy just blinked at him (only a little unevenly). And okay, maybe she made a face. She just didn't understand why he had to do this every time they went out. Like fine, there's a hot chick but did he really need her approval? It’s not like she didn’t support him and his whorish ways. Bucky was seriously one of her best friends EVER. If he wanted to be a freaking penguin she'd support him in that too. It was called being a good friend, damnit. But super awesome supportive friend or not, did she really have to give him the thumbs up before he bagged some babe at a bar? It felt like he was rubbing her face in it.

“That’s not her real hair color.” Damn, did that sound bitchy. She had one eye closed as she finished off her fifth margarita. (Where the heck had the fourth one gone?)

Bucky rolled his eyes. “Thanks, doll. Real helpful.”

She was squinting up at him as climbed out of the booth again, a pleased as freaking punch smile on her face. “That’s what I’m here for.”

Another eye roll as he adjusted the collar of his leather jacket. “Gee Darce, have another drink why don’t you?”

“Thanks, Buck. I think I will.” Seriously, Clint must have put some extra sass in the mix tonight.

She watched over her shoulder as he swaggered to the bar (seriously, just walk like a normal person) and nabbed Clint’s attention with a casually raised hand. Giving an eye roll of her own, she shook her head in disgust.

“So,” Steve drawled, reminding her that he was still sitting across from her. “Like I was saying. You still haven’t told him, have you?”

The table was sticky when she lay her head down. Gross. Also, kind of comfy. But definitely gross. She just couldn’t bring herself to care.

  
“You really should talk to him,” Steve said. “Put yourself out of this misery.”

“And say what, exactly?” She was all mumbles and self-pity. “’Hey Buck, instead of screwing half the women in the five boroughs, I think you should just bang me instead’? Pssh. Fat chance.”

“Okay, so maybe not that.” He was pushing her hair back, keeping it safe from where she had accidentally sloshed some of her drink on the table. “But how long can you go on pretending?”

Using her arm as a pillow, she looked at him. “I dunno. I think I’ve done a pretty bang up job so far.”

He was giving her a look that only confirmed that she really was just as pathetic as she felt. The only thing worse than her self-pity was Steve’s pity for her. That was just facts. And it was making her feel a little weepy.

“Steve?”

He smiled warmly at her. “Yeah, Darce?”

“I don’t feel so good.”

His smile faltered and then fell, replaced with a look of deep concern. “What, like you’re going to be sick?”

She made a face. Steve picked up the lone remaining margarita and sniffed at its contents before taking a tentative sip.

“For two bucks I’m not even sure there’s tequila in there. Did you eat tonight?” He said, swiping at his mouth with the back of his hand.

A hand over her suddenly roiling tummy, Darcy groaned as she thought about the quick dinner she had scarfed down in front of a (in hindsight) very suspect looking food truck. “Fish tacos.”

“Oh shit.”

When Steve cursed like that she knew she was done for. The room was starting to sway. Quickly, Steve grabbed their coats. Helping her from the booth, they didn’t even bother to put them on as he ushered her towards the door.

She was only vaguely aware of Bucky’s existence as they pushed past the bar which should have been a clue of exactly how freaking crappy she felt. In a crowded room she always knew where Bucky was, even when she didn’t want to. Even when he was making out with some random girl in a corner booth. Even when she was mad at him. She always knew because like an idiot she was in love with the stupid jerk.

“What wrong?” He asked, maybe concerned or maybe just curious.

“Looks like someone can’t hold her liquor.”

Darcy looked up just long enough to register the redheads cool smirk of amusement and then said (barked) the first thing that came to mind.

“Eat a dick.”

With his arm firm around her waist, Steve continued to pull her towards the door. The last thing she heard was Bucky’s apology. To the redhead, not to her.

“It’s alright,” Steve assured as the tears came. “You’re okay.”

The cold evening air felt good against her flushed cheeks. So good that she closed her eyes and took a deep sniffling breath. Then she promptly threw up in the gutter. And all over Steve’s boots. You know, like ladies sometimes do.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudo, Comment, Subscribe!


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